Toward Consciousness is about my myth, my messages, and my learning to discover mySelf. These pages are in many ways my diary, though not in full. Not everything experienced gets written, and not everything written gets presented here. On most days my messages are so rich, varied, and deep that time does not allow to capture all. This is my story, a window into my struggle, my work and my growth toward consciousness...

Spirit First

My efforts to build a meditation retreat center on a wooded mountainside are followed at my web log found at this site.

Monday, June 11, 2007

sometimes i carry poetry with me, little treasures for me to read during my travels or in moments that i find myself waiting for my name to be called or my number to come up. today i carry words on a crumpled piece of paper in my purse, words written by a brand-new poet (brand new for me). the poet's name is ellen bass and i've known of her for only a few days (thank you my dear kaveri). i read ellen's poems aloud and i read them silently to myself. i read them slowly. i read them carefully. i read her poems and every time i do, i cry.if you do not know the writing of ms. ellen bass, then please allow me the honor to introduce you to her verse.

If You Knew

What if you knew you'd be the lastto touch someone?If you were taking tickets, for example,at the theater, tearing them,giving back the ragged stubs,you might take care to touch that palm,brush your fingertipsalong the life line's crease.

When a man pulls his wheeled suitcasetoo slowly through the airport, whenthe car in front of me doesn't signal,when the clerk at the pharmacywon't say Thank you, I don't rememberthey're going to die.

A friend told me she'd been with her aunt.They'd just had lunch and the waiter,a young gay man with plum black eyes,joked as he served the coffee, kissedher aunt's powdered cheek when they left.Then they walked half a block and her auntdropped dead on the sidewalk.

How close does the dragon's spumehave to come? How wide does the crackin heaven have to split?What would people look likeif we could see them as they are,soaked in honey, stung and swollen,reckless, pinned against time?